Miss Darcy's Beaux

by Eliza Shearer

  The drawing room at St James was spacious and imposing, its ceilings high and beautifully ornate. The large arched windows, dressed with heavy velvet curtains, allowed much light into the space, which had richly lined walls, covered with gilded-framed paintings depicting portraits of royalty and nobility and the odd pastoral scene. Courtiers were everywhere, all of them in elaborate and vibrant dress, colourful like a colony of butterflies. The air was thick with sweat and the perfumes of exotic flowers and spices intended to mask bodily odours. I had expected the room to be solemnly silent, but I couldn't have been further from the truth: there was a constant buzz in the background, to the point that one might think that an army of bees had entered through one of the garden windows.

  I felt faintly sick. The bandeau, heavier by the minute, was tight around my temples, as if a giant was steadily pressing my skull with his mighty hands. My nerves and the tight gown had quelled the ravenous hunger I was feeling before leaving Grosvenor Square, but my mouth was dry and sticky. What if the Queen addressed me and I couldn't answer?

  The Lord Chamberlain finally announced me, and my aunt gave me one of her commanding looks. I swallowed hard and advanced towards the Queen. She was sitting in perfect stillness, like an ancient sculpture, her frail body magnificently attired with a formal court dress in embroidered gold and silver cloth. She was not a handsome woman like my aunt, who at her age still kept a faint trace of the delicate features of her youth, but her bearing was distinctively regal, and she had an air of natural authority.

  The Queen acknowledged my presence with the faintest of nods. As if on cue, I began my curtsey, lowering myself down and praying that the ostrich feathers would stay firmly in their place. My legs, tired from standing for hours, attempted to rebel, but I persisted, and curtseyed in front of the Queen in a single graceful movement. I smiled inwardly; my aunt would be proud. I slowly rose up again, and my eyes met the Queen's. She looked at me with a jaded expression and extended her hand to be kissed.

  "Do you like horses?” she asked me, unexpectedly.

  We had excellent stables at Pemberley, full of mounts of the best breeds, beautiful animals that I enjoyed riding in the lush green of the estate. However, upon hearing the Queen's question, a very particular memory hit me: the distinctive smell of horse, tobacco and wet wool of the stranger I had encountered at the inn. I blushed.

  "I do, ma'am. Very much."

  She turned to the crowd, and with a hand wave, she dismissed me.

  I had almost finished. I bent again for another deep curtsey. Long neck, straight back, bent knees. Down, down, then stop. Confident, I rose again. Then, out of nowhere, I lost my balance. It was just a split second, and I quickly gained my composure again. I don't think the Queen noticed; her attention had wandered elsewhere. But I was certain that Lady Catherine would reprimand me as soon as we got back to the house. I slowly walked backwards out of the Queen's presence, my self-assurance dented, praying that I would not trip over my train or any unforeseen obstacles.

  When I joined Lady Catherine, she did not say a word, but her seething discontent was apparent in the way she grabbed my arm and started to drag me towards the door. I resigned myself to the reprimand that no doubt would come as soon as we were seated in her carriage, but as we moved through the room, she went stiff, then nodded, and slowly but surely changed her course towards one of the windows.

  A carefully coiffed gentleman of a certain age in full ceremonial dress of richly embroidered coat and breeches ceremoniously greeted my aunt, and then addressed her warmly.

  "Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I cannot believe my eyes! It is so wonderful to see you at court."

  "Lord Elliot, it is a pleasure to be here again."

  My aunt kept her usual dignified bearing, but I knew her well enough to realise that she was as delighted to be recognised at St James as a milkmaid the first time the farmer's son notices her. I let out a sigh of relief, hoping the encounter would radically transform her mood for the rest of the day.

  Lady Catherine began to converse amicably with Lord Elliot. From their dialogue, it transpired that the families were acquainted on account of the Elliots being relatives of Lady Dalrymple, a childhood friend of my aunt's. Lord Elliot had not seen Lady Catherine for years, and he immediately offered his condolences on Cousin Anne's passing. His manners were elegant in the extreme, his solicitude to my aunt very apparent, and he was, or rather had been, a handsome man. I wondered whether he had been one of the candidates Lady Catherine had considered as a prospective son-in-law after Cousin Anne's presumed engagement to my brother dissolved. I made a mental note to ask Jones upon returning to Grosvenor Square; she would know.

  The conversation then moved on to me.

  "I must congratulate you on the presentation of your niece, Lady Catherine. She is rather delightful."

  Lord Elliot's gaze fell on my body, and he unashamedly appraised my person like a patron at a tobacconist might assess a valuable gem-encrusted snuff box. Then, he smacked his lips in approval, and gave me what appeared like a much-rehearsed smile. I lowered my eyes, passing off my revulsion as maiden modesty.

  "Yes, she is very delightful, and no doubt very accomplished as well. Is she staying with you at Grosvenor Square?"

  "She is, Lord Elliot, and she will be for the remainder of the season."

  “Very well. I imagine my cousins the Dalrymples will be expecting your presence at Hanover Square for their upcoming soirée. Lady Dalrymple will no doubt be anxious to see you. I know fully well how much she esteems you."

  "Indeed, Lord Elliot. We have received Lady Dalrymple's invitation, and I am looking forward to introducing Georgiana to her next Tuesday."

  "And I look forward to continuing our conversation, Lady Catherine, as well as deepening my acquaintance with your charming niece."

  Lord Elliot gave us an elegant bow in way of farewell.

  Shortly afterwards we were back in the barouche, my aunt deep in thought. I expected her to mention my curtseying blunder, but the encounter with Lord Elliot had caused her attention to direct itself elsewhere, and I couldn't but be grateful to Lord Elliot for having spared me grief.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam joined us for dinner that night. In spite of his recent differences with Lady Catherine, he seemed his usual charming self. Likewise, my aunt did not allude to their disagreement. I suspected that, with my brother banished from Lady Catherine’s affections due to his choice of wife, the Colonel had readily become my aunt’s favourite nephew.

  The first thing the Colonel expressed was his regret at not having seen me before I set off for my presentation at St James.

  "If only I could have convinced Mr Marshall to amend our plans, but it was impossible. Georgiana in full court attire must have been quite a beautiful sight. But pray, tell me, how did the ceremony go?"

  Lady Catherine, who was in excellent spirits, did not allow the memory of my gaffe to spoil her delight.

  "It was wonderful to be at court after such a long time and to find that one still has acquaintances in the most exclusive of social circles in the country," she said, her voice brimming with pleasure. "We encountered Lord Elliot, a cousin of the late Lord Dalrymple. Both families were estranged for a while, but they appear to be on excellent terms again. I find it odd that Lord Elliot has not yet remarried. He is still young enough to produce a male heir."

  I considered my aunt's words for a few moments. Lord Elliot retained some of the features that must have marked him as very good-looking in his youth, but he was most certainly in the mature years of his life, and certainly past his prime. Whether he could father children was no given, but I supposed that for dozens of women he represented a very desirable match.

  "It may have been a wonderfully exciting day, but I fear that it may have affected Georgiana's nerves," the Colonel said, putting his fork on the silver plate. "She looks terribly pale and hasn't eaten but a morsel of what has been put in front of her."

  I guiltily thought of the feast of bread,
cold meats and cheese I had eaten upon arriving at Grosvenor Square. The hours of standing on an empty stomach at St James Palace had left me ravenous, and the food, not my health, was to blame for my lack of appetite. But before I could explain myself, my aunt intervened. Her good mood had disappeared like the sun behind a stormy cloud.

  "Georgiana must become accustomed to being in public and acquire the habit of conversation. You and I know that her days in Pemberley are numbered. She will soon have a home to call her own, and if everything goes according to my designs, her new responsibilities will include many social engagements at the highest level."

  Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled.

  "Dear Lady Catherine, you speak as if Georgiana were engaged, but unless you have been secretly meeting up with eligible bachelors under the pretence of shopping for ribbons, I don't think she is much closer to marriage than she was when we left Pemberley."

  "Oh, but she is. She was seen at court today, and she will be seen much more in what remains of the season. Dinners, balls, concerts, assemblies – I have it all planned. On Tuesday, my old friend Lady Dalrymple is hosting a small party with the most elegant and select group of guests. It will be an excellent first event for Georgiana. I have it on good word that there will be one or two extremely eligible single men in the party. "

  Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes and raised her eyebrows, as if she could picture the possibilities of the gathering. I pondered my aunt's words, and secretly hoped that Lord Elliot was not one of the single men she was contemplating as potential suitors for my hand.

  "Lady Darlymple has also invited us to a ball on the following Friday, which will be a much grander affair. Colonel, you will accompany us on both occasions, will you not? Lady Dalrymple is terribly eager to check for herself if you look like your father. You will remember that she met him many years ago."

  My cousin smiled at her curtly.

  "If you excuse me, Lady Catherine, I am otherwise engaged on Tuesday night. I arranged several months ago to meet with some old officers from my battalion. Many of them are coming from afar, so I have no option to reschedule it. However, it will be my pleasure to escort you to the ball on Friday."

  Lady Catherine reluctantly accepted the Colonel's excuse, and with that particular course of events agreed upon, we all retired to our rooms. I, for one, was glad to have an early night.

  Chapter 9

  The interior of Lady Dalrymple's Hanover Square residence was as grand as the exterior. Lady Catherine and I went up the long marble staircase, flanked by large family portraits of people long dead, all with similarly haughty expressions, and were ushered into the main drawing room. Lady Dalrymple was sitting on a throne-like chair, dressed in the most traditional fashion.

  My aunt went to her, and I followed.

  "Lady Dalrymple, it is a great pleasure to see you. May I introduce my niece, Miss Darcy? She's my late sister's daughter. I am sure you will see the resemblance, although it has been a long time since we played together in our childhood. Georgiana was so eager to meet you. I have explained to her how kind you were to Lady Anne, and how you let her play with your favourite doll."

  Lady Dalrymple stared at me with empty eyes, a rigid smile on her aged face, then gave me a sort of side nod. I quickly lowered my gaze and curtseyed. I was then introduced to Lady Dalrymple's only daughter, Miss Carteret, who was rather plain and awkward, in spite of her beautiful clothes and expensive jewellery. Where her mother was vacuously charming and indifferent, Miss Carteret came across as nervous, like a sparrow suspecting a bird of prey. Next to her, I felt positively elegant, even pretty.

  Under my aunt's severe gaze I tried to engage in polite conversation with Miss Carteret, but she was barely civil and just gave me the shortest of answers. She kept glancing now and again towards the magnificent golden clock on the mantelpiece.

  Then, the main door opened, and I saw anticipation in Miss Carteret's expression, as if her life depended on whoever came in now.

  Lord Elliot and a handsome lady with an elegant air entered the room. Both were dressed very fashionably and shared a strong family resemblance. They approached us and, after the customary greetings, the lady was introduced to me as Miss Elliot, Lord Elliot's daughter.

  Addressing her, Lord Elliot nodded in my direction.

  "Dear Elizabeth, is Miss Darcy not a most charming young lady?"

  I blushed.

  "She is indeed, Papa."

  "Miss Darcy, do you play the pianoforte?"

  "I do, sir."

  "Wonderful. The tinkling of the ivories after dinner can be so enchanting. I do hope you will indulge us later on. My daughter can play only tolerably well, but of course, she has many other charms."

  “I am sure she does, Lord Elliot,” said my aunt with a frozen smile.

  Lord Elliot did not appear to notice my aunt’s remark, and after some consideration, he spoke again.

  "Lady Catherine, I predict that Miss Darcy will have no trouble finding suitors," he declared with the rational approach other men might reserve for a business transaction. "She will come with a handsome settlement, of course. Under such conditions, even I might be tempted!" he chuckled with glee.

  My aunt appeared slightly disconcerted, but before she could respond, the door open again and Miss Carteret’s face lit up. This time, a party of three came in: it consisted of a couple, the arm of the lady wrapped around that of her partner, followed by a very tall and broad gentleman. Miss Carteret looked crestfallen, but everyone else's gaze immediately fell on the pair.

  The first gentleman, evidently a military man of some description, was exceptionally handsome. His lady, slight and rather pretty in an unassuming sort of way, appeared as dainty and fragile as a meadow flower next to him. Their friend stood in the background, perhaps aware of the interest generated by the couple.

  Lady Catherine observed them with narrowing eyes.

  "What a fine man. She is not much to look at, but I am certain I have never met him before. I have an excellent memory, Lord Elliot. I must ask your cousin, Lady Dalrymple, to introduce me."

  "I will be delighted to do the honours, Madam. They are no other than my second daughter Anne and her husband, Captain Wentworth. They have not been married a year. The man behind them is a friend of his, a captain or other. Captain Wentworth is most elegant, is he not?" added Lord Elliot with evident satisfaction.

  For once, Lady Catherine reddened, but Lord Elliot didn't seem particularly bothered by my aunt's faux pas. He waved to the newcomers, and they made their way towards us.

  The Wentworths were an enchanting couple. Captain Wentworth had the boldness and confidence of someone who has been through the worst and has come back intact. His wife had a gentle countenance and seemed somehow timid, although for obvious reasons I was in no position to berate her reserve. The second gentleman, a Captain Price, was pleasant enough. I detected a hint of surprise in his eyes when we were introduced, as if he recognised me. He certainly looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place him.

  There was much talking about the weather, London society and the situations of some common acquaintances. Throughout the conversation I was relieved to notice that Lord Elliot seemed much more interested in pleasing and attending to Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret than in getting to know me. Perhaps he was not the bachelor my aunt had in mind for me, after all. Jones had informed me that Lady Catherine had indeed considered Lord Elliot as a suitor to Anne before her health took a turn for the worse, but that had been some years prior, and at the time my cousin was much older than me. I very much hoped my aunt’s opinions had changed since.

  Some minutes later, I noticed Captain Price's gaze on mine, and when I had the chance, I discreetly addressed him.

  "Captain Price, may I ask you if we are acquainted? I have the feeling that we have met before."

  He gave me a broad smile.

  "If you mean whether we have been formally introduced, I can categorically say that this isn't the case," he said, his blu
e eyes dancing.

  Captain Price was not as handsome as Captain Wentworth, but he had an agreeable countenance and was taller than me, something I wasn't used to. I found myself attracted to his powerful presence, but before either of us could say anything else, the footman announced the arrival of another guest.

  "Don Cosimo Giovanni Ludovico, Prince of Rasiglia and Ponziano."

  The man who entered the room had the nose of a Roman statue, the poise of a cat and the most perfectly aligned teeth I had ever seen. He was wearing a daring mauve jacket and a delicate lace cravat, and his shiny black hair was arranged in the continental manner. Miss Carteret was all smiles now, her cheeks flushed with colour.

  There was a flurry of interactions, greetings, small talk. Then the introductions started, and all of a sudden Don Cosimo was in front of me. He had a strong jaw and a half smile on his handsome face, but all I could see were his eyes. Other than their dazzling green colour, their shape, the long eyelashes, the gentle brow, all screamed Wickham. It was as if a rug had been pulled from under my feet. I curtseyed, then he was gone. I looked up and saw Captain Price observing me in silence, an impenetrable expression on his face.

  We made our way to the magnificently opulent dining room and I was seated next to Captain Wentworth, who appeared to be experienced in the art of making conversation. I inwardly sighed with relief; at least maintaining small talk with him wouldn't feel taxing, unlike my earlier attempts with Miss Carteret. To my left, I could glimpse Don Cosimo. His perfectly drawn features were entirely focused on Miss Carteret, on his left-hand side. Across from me, Lord Elliot played a complicated game of tennis, dividing his attention equally between Lady Dalrymple and my aunt, and appeared to have completely forgotten about my existence.

  The servants brought in the soup, and the meal began. Captain Price discreetly glanced in my direction every so often, but at the same time seemed to avoid my gaze. His flicker of recognition was gnawing at me, and I must have frowned.